


Ownership

by ChickadeeChick



Series: Promises [2]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 16:18:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChickadeeChick/pseuds/ChickadeeChick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nando doesn't live up to his promise to Rafa and has to deal with the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ownership

**Author's Note:**

> After Nando lost to Rafa (AND HOLY CRAP WAS THAT A TENNIS MATCH!!!) in the 2009 Australian Open semis I just had to continue from where Promises left off.

Fernando felt himself grimace a little as Rafa launched himself over the net and pulled him into a hug.  He hugged back, had to really, for the cameras.  
  
Rafa’s sweaty hair was brushing his cheek.  “You were right.  I did enjoy it.”  Rafa whispered.  Nando pulled back and saw the smirk in Rafa’s eyes, even if it didn’t reach his lips.  Apparently the World Number One had not forgotten that little encounter in the locker room days before.  Dammit.  
  
And it wasn’t like Nando had not tried to beat Rafa.  He nearly pulled the stuffing out of a player whom he used to just crumple in front of… and then lost it on a double fault.  Stupid stupid stupid.  
  
Nando went through the motions of grabbing his things and heading into the locker room mechanically, his mind elsewhere.  He knew that there were people out there cheering for both him and for Rafa, for their match, but his heart wasn’t in it at the moment.  
  
He came back to himself as he sat in front of his locker, staring down at his hands.  He had been so close.  How frustrating.  That feeling of wanting to punch something surfaced again, similar to the last time he had walked into the locker room after a match, now with a completely different motivation behind it.  
  
“You were amazing, you know.”  Rafa was leaning against the locker in front of Nando – Nando didn’t look up beyond the taped knees.  “You would have deserved the win.  All of it.  But I couldn’t just give it to you.”  Rafa actually chuckled.  Nando still didn’t look up, but felt fingers running through his hair.  “Who are you and where is the Fernando I played last year, years before?”  He paused, voice getting quieter.  “Where is the Fernando I met two days ago here in this locker room?”    
  
That got Nando’s attention and he looked up, causing Rafa’s hand to slide backwards and cup the back of his head.  The touch was unnerving.  Nando narrowed his eyes.  Rafa crouched down, dropping his head below the level of Nando’s, almost like you might lower yourself to talk to a child.  The older Spaniard’s eyes kept contact with Rafa’s, suspicious of his intentions.    
  
“Did you leave him out on the court?  I think the door would still be open… we can go out and get him…” Nando continued to stare silently at Rafa.  “That passion.  Where did it come from?” Rafa paused, even though he knew he wasn’t going to get an answer.  He pushed himself up a little, bringing his face to Nando’s.  “Where did it go?  I liked it.”  His voice was darker than Nando thought possible for the young tennis star.  
  
Both their breathing was heavy again, coming in soft pants, and Fernando was completely unsure of what to do.  Here was tennis’s Number One, someone he didn’t know all that well, willingly offering submission in a way that had nothing to do with being able to return his first serve.    
  
Nando suddenly reached forward with both hands and gripped high on Rafa’s shoulders, fingers on his neck.  He flexed his grip, nails digging into skin salty with dried sweat and Rafa’s eyes widened, pupils dilating with something that was not shock.  Nando pulled Rafa forward so his lips were by his ear.  “You can’t have it.  You’ve taken enough for one day.” His voice had gained back that growl from days before, even if it was a bit pained.  
  
“Never said I wanted it.” Rafa’s voice was so breathless that it surprised Nando.  “I don’t want to own it… I want it to own me.”    
  
For a moment the only response Rafa got was a sharp intake of breath and nails digging harder into his neck.  He absently wondered how he was going to explain the angry-red crescent moons to Toni later.    
  
Nando felt electricity run through him at Rafa’s words.  This was not the Rafa he had met before, who Feliciano talked about, who he saw at tournaments and at press conferences.  He was tempted to respond by echoing Rafa’s question from earlier, ‘who are you and where is the Rafael Nadal I had known before,’ but it seemed a bit moot at this point – in such intimate moments they really knew nothing of one another.  
  
Nando pressed down with his hands and Rafa easily dropped to his knees, hungrily moving forward when Nando spread his own knees apart.  Rafa’s hands slid up strong calves and onto toned thighs, under the sweat-damp material of Nando’s shorts.  He crawled forward on his knees and looked up at the older Spaniard.  Dark eyes met and Rafa almost moaned, the intensity in Nando’s gaze almost overwhelming.  Looking away first, trying to avoid that scorching intensity, Rafa bowed his head and shoulders and leaned in to nuzzle at Nando’s crotch.  
  
Nando’s hands shot into Rafa’s hair and his legs spread further, hips arching off the bench.  Rafa leaned back into the hands on his head for a moment and then rocked forward again, his own hands leaving the hot skin under Nando’s shorts to pull down the zipper.    
  
It didn’t take long to get Nando’s shorts and underwear down to the floor.  Rafa draped his arms over tanned thighs and placed a teasing kiss to the head of the erect cock before him.    
  
Nando hissed and grabbed fiercely at Rafa’s hair, causing the man on his knees to actually yelp.  “Oh, none of that.” Nando growled.  “Take all of it.  Now.”  
  
Rafa felt a blush spread across his cheeks – even now he was embarrassed that this was the sort of situation that turned him on.  Taking a deep breath Rafa did as he was told and dove forward, taking Nando’s cock into his mouth and bulldozing past his gag reflex, causing his eyes to tear.  
  
“ _Dios mio_ fuck!” Came Nando’s reply, his eyes closed and head thrown back, fists full of Rafa’s hair, and Rafa knew that the discomfort belied by his few tears was worth it.  
  
After five hours of tennis neither of them had the stamina to last long.  Rafa swallowed hard as Nando came, hands still clenched tight in Rafa’s hair.  Rafa leaned back, lips swollen and was surprised when Nando slid off the bench and to his knees.  Pressing their torsos together, Nando’s hands slid to cup Rafa’s face and bring him into a kiss, deep and probing.  Rafa moaned into Nando’s mouth as he felt a hand wrap around his own ignored erection.  Only a few quick twists and it was Rafa’s turn to throw his head back, Nando’s hand clamped firmly over his mouth to muffle the shout.  
  
Nando replaced his hand with his lips, the sensation peeling Rafa off the ceiling and bringing him back to the floor of the locker room.  Nando chuckled into the kiss and pulled back.  “We’re going to be late for the press.”  
  
“Fuck the press.” Rafa said with an almost goofy smile.    
  
“No, no.” Nando leaned forward, lips to Rafa’s ear.  “The only fucking you are doing from now on is with me, got it?”  
  
Rafa knew that the end of that sentence wasn’t really meant to be a question, despite its inflection.  His smile widened.  “Si.”


End file.
